The Paladin in the Abyss-Chapter 767 - 788: Change of Plan

After walking a bit farther, silhouettes finally appeared along the streets, guarding near what appeared to be very sturdy buildings. Beneath black capes shone armor with a metallic sheen, with their palms nonchalantly resting on the weapons at their waists, looking ready to face battle at any moment. As Lancelot sized up these people, they reciprocated with dangerous glances but did not step forward to stop the passing group.

Lancelot also noticed that everyone wore a certain emblem—they had already seen the axe embedded in a skull, just like the two guards at the city gate; a skeletal hand stretching out from the ground with a tombstone in the background; crossed swords and battle axes with blood dripping from the sword blade; a human figure split from head to abdomen with a vague shadow rising from within...

The emblems could be painted on robes, sleeve bands, shields, or even skin. Undoubtedly, these emblems belonged to some organization. The emblem with the axe embedded in a skull was already recognized by the group as the insignia of the Skull Crushers Legion, and indeed, those wearing this emblem were in the majority, at least for now.

Lancelot soon realized another problem—if every person in the city belonged to a gang, then the role of his party became quite delicate. Different forces would surely react differently; some might just secretly monitor their actions, some might want to test their skills, and others might even directly confront them to persuade (or threaten) them to join.

The situation could become very complicated, and unless they planned to be enemies with everyone, they would eventually have to make a choice.

The group made another right turn at the next intersection, keeping to the streets closest to the city walls. They had not gone far when they suddenly heard the sounds of a fight. A bear goblin and a half-orc were brawling in front of a three-story building with a red roof, seemingly vying for a gleaming scimitar.

The scimitar flew out of the hands of the two brawlers and landed in the road ahead of Lancelot. This beautiful scimitar, forged from some silvery-gray metal and emanating a faint blue spiritual light, was clearly a fine magic weapon.

However, Lancelot made no move, simply waiting patiently on the spot. The fight quickly concluded—the bear goblin covertly pulled a dagger from his boot and slit the half-orc’s throat, the dark red blood instantly spilling onto the ground and quickly disappearing into the cracks between the cobblestones.

The victor left his opponent’s body where it fell, turned, and walked toward Lancelot and his group. He bent down to pick up his prize, his eyes constantly on the human knight, but the latter just watched him impassively, neither intimidated by his fierce gaze nor desirous of claiming the scimitar for himself, which somewhat disconcerted the bear goblin.

"Are you done with your business, sir?" Lancelot asked coldly, "If there’s nothing else, please step aside."

The bear goblin originally had other plans, but something in the voice of the human knight made him decide to stop there. He slowly backed away, while Lancelot looked up at the second-floor window of the building—under the slightly lifted curtain, several hand crossbows were aimed at his position, their black-coated arrowheads creating no reflection and hard for the average person to notice. freewёbn૦νeɭ.com

But of course, Lancelot could not be fooled, especially in this relatively open environment.

Just then, a loud explosion sounded not far away, followed by a chaotic exclamations of battle, drawing the attention of everyone present—including those hidden behind the curtains.

Lancelot’s heart sank slightly; he suddenly had an ominous premonition that the explosion might have occurred at the building they were seeking. With this thought, he no longer cared for caution, threw the reins, and galloped toward the direction of the explosion, with his companions quickly following suit.

In Abyss, there was a saying that if you worried something bad might happen, it surely would. After rushing forward two blocks, a large house already ablaze appeared in Lancelot’s view, making everyone gasp, for they instantly recognized it as the building previously seen in the Prophecy Magic—the old Dwarf was locked in the dungeon on the second basement level... at least a few hours earlier.

An assault on that house was underway, and although there was still resistance in the courtyard by the entrance, the attackers had breached the front defenses and broken into the building. The upper floors seemed to remain under the control of the defenders, from where arrows flew through inconspicuous gaps, toppling any attackers who were careless.

Lancelot unexpectedly noticed that the attackers bore no distinctive emblems, which was completely contrary to what he had observed since entering the city. But there was no time to ponder that now. He led his group to the gate, then leaped off his Nightmare.

"Wait here for us to come out," Lancelot instructed the great black horse, which nodded in understanding. Due to the characteristics of the Demon’s Domain, these summoned creatures were also unable to return to their original planes and were trapped here like everyone else.

"Who are you?" challenged an Elf in chainmail who appeared to be a leader among the attackers, blocking Lancelot’s way, "Leave, this isn’t your affair."

"Oh, but it is, right in that building’s dungeon," Lancelot rested his hand on his sword hilt, his voice ice-cold as he spoke, "Apart from that, everything else is none of our business. But if you continue to stand in my way, then it becomes your business."

Lancelot’s move caused all the other attackers to gather around, but the Human Knight stood his ground, his eyes fixed on the Elf before him. The Elf glanced at Lancelot’s armor, squinted slightly, and then suddenly stepped aside, yielding access to the entrance.

"Don’t attack anyone without an emblem; they are our people," the Elf explained indifferently, "Good luck."

Lancelot silently nodded and stepped forward into the courtyard.

No sooner had he entered the yard than several crossbow arrows were shot at him, though fortunately, the aim was not very good. Only one posed a real threat, which he easily deflected with his longsword before the second volley of arrows arrived; by then, he had already led his companions into the building, entering a narrow corridor.

The battle here had clearly ended not long before, with blood still slowly trickling down the walls, and the wounded lying on the ground taking their final breaths. Lancelot noticed that most of the bodies on the ground wore a black armband with a crying skull painted in red—an evident mark of the other faction involved in the conflict.

Lancelot easily found a still-breathing human who was sitting against a wall in a pool of black blood, trembling as he clutched a wound on his stomach. Yet, it was apparent to anyone that death had already looped its noose around his neck.

"Where is the entrance to the dungeon?" Lancelot drew a healing potion from his belt and shook it in front of the man, "Answer my question and this is yours."